
THE ETERNAL 1 

AND OTHER 

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THE ETERNAL I 

AND OTHER 

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Edward Jordy Graham 



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COPYRIGHT, 1919 

BY 

ELEANOR G. GRAHAM 

NEW ORLEANS, LA. 



OCT 31 I'Ji'd 



©CU535545 



EDWARD JORDY GRAHAM, THE MAN. 



This little volume seems to assemble those 
traits of character which made up the inter- 
esting and attractive personality of Edward 
Jordy Graham. Artist and musician, it is not sur- 
prising that he expressed the thoughts of his 
versatile mind rythmically. A thinker, deeply 
religious, building soul mansions each more 
stately than the last as his knowledge of the In- 
finite grew. Believing in, daily demonstrating and 
helping others to demonstrate the brotherhood of 
man. In the poems of Ideality his wonderful 
imagination has full sway. In the poems of 
Remembrance, the love and devotion he felt to- 
wards those with whom he came in intimate con- 
tact is clearly evinced. Of refreshing and enter- 
taining wit, untainted by sarcasm, we find him 
writing in humorous vein. Born and reared in 
the ''Southland" attended by a black mammy, it 
is natural that we should find among his poems 
those in dialect, which tell something of the man- 
nerisms of the Southern negro, even while seem- 
ing to be fun-making at the expense of the 
modern projects which he himself espoused. 

It was my great privilege to have been num- 
bered among those who knew and loved him best. 
Julia Powell Brisbane. 




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THE ETERNAL I. 



Each in our turn must unresponsive lie, 

Though friends and kindred stand with aching 
hearts, 
Not knowing that the real, the deathless I 

Has found the life which death alone imparts; 
And thus they grieve. 
Not knowing that the I has gladly laid 
Aside the garment, useful for a span 
To manifest the I Divine : arrayed 

Briefly in human form to learn the Man, 
And man retrieve. 

It is not ours to cloud the heart with gloom, 

To hold enfettered by a selfish love 
The clay freed soul : or fear in death a doom ; 

When Death alone, Divinity doth prove. 
With I divine. 
For know in all the seons that have gone. 

Through space of time unmeasured by an end 
The I in coexistence met the dawn, 

And ever living, endless Time will tend. 
Why then repine? 

Rather rejoice, to see the Ego freed. 

To know the I is making destiny. 
To know that each transition is its meed 

Of progress to a free Eternity 
Forevermore. 
Search for the Truth within. It is thy power. 

The I in all, is as the I in thee. 
And do not weep, that Life should claim its hour 

Between the deaths that for a time must be. 
Then nevermore. 



Inspired by Emily C, February 29, 1912. 



THE SILENCE. 



Into the Silence! Then be still. 

Wait, and the Silence will surely speak. 
Wait in the Silence, and have thy will ; 

All that thou seeketh or e'er did'st seek. 

Into the Silence take but Faith, 

Faith in Love, and its wondrous power; 

Faith in the wisdom of Truth which sayeth, 
Seek ye the Silence ! Find thy dower. 

Into the Silence ! Find thy Soul 

Waiting the call that doth mean. Awake ! 

Glad in its freedom to grant as toll 
All that thy courage of will, will take. 

Into the Silence, patient wait : 

Ages of error must be undone. 
Ages of Truth may be thine to state, 

E'er thou can'st think that thy guerdon's won. 

Into the Silence! Sacred right 

Thine, when all the weakness of doubt has gone, 
There thou wilt find as the Truth of Light, 

Thou, and Thy Forces, and God are One. 



Written after the perusal of Floyd B. Wilson's 
classic, "Paths to Power," hence dedicated to that 
noble writer. 



DEVACHAN. 
(Paradise.) 



Beyond the Veil, dear, thou wilt find me waiting. 

Life incomplete without thee, there or here. 
Tho' there, there be no marriage there'll be mating 

Of souls attuned. There must be! Have no fear 
But that again when we have passed the portal 

Which bars from mortal ken that mystic land 
We'll meet, and with a vision cleared, immortal, 

Awake the fuller, better understand 
That Death is but the gateway to completing 

Existence, crudely here exemplified. 
Thou'lt find me waiting, glad to give thee greeting 

If first I pass unto the other side. 
And if it be that thou should'st hence precede me 

I know that thy fair soul wilt wait for mine 
Unwilling, tho' transcendent glories lead thee, 

To halve the Unit fixed in God's design. 
When souls were twinned in unrecorded ages 

And under rule of Law have so evolved 
Conning with patient thought the wondrous pages 

Which held the future. By the past absolved 
We have attained : and have in the attaining 

Passed through each portal that the Cosmos 
holds 
Through mists of seons gone we have been gaining 

What rock, plant, animal and man unfolds ; 
By paths converged, but ever drawing nearer 

Have reached the plane whereon with equal feet 
We stand, and know each to the other dearer 

In that beyond the veil as one we meet. 
So as the height of mortal life is gilding. 

With the bright dawn of that which is to be. 
And as the Spirit, ever upward building. 

Hath by the law enshrined in thee and me. 
So when we cast our outgrown shells behind us 

And either fly first forth into the dawn 
The law that either frees must ever find us 

Halved, that one spirit only hath been born. 
So thus a moment yet, a brief delaying 

An instant's pause, edging eternity 
Then self seeks self, completion's law obeying, 

And filling out the Units' Destiny. 
So be it ! Thou or I may pierce the shadow 

Yet Thou nor I can find the guerdon won 
Alone. But once we twain are reunited 

All will be well, and all to be, be done. 



THE CYCLE. 



Thou of no use? weary one 

Be not thus faint of heart, 
For know, that in this Universe 

E'en the minutest part 
Is of a most important use 

In the Eternal plan 
That needs each mite to form the Whole, 

From amoeba to Man. 

Thou of no use? doubting one 

Think on the vibrant Whole 
And pause. Thou shalt not desecrate 

Thy sacredness of soul. 
Think what thou wast, know what thou art. 

With none more needful than 
Thyself, the cycle to complete 

From amoeba to Man. 

Thou of no use ? faithless one 

Facing the glorious goal. 
Know all the Truth, claim all thy own. 

For Knowledge grants thee toll. 
And evil is not thine to state. 

Nor thine to hold the ban 
That keeps in bondage every force 

From amoeba to Man. 

Thou of no use? waking one 

Rise in thy godlike might, 
And neath the shield of Confidence 

Drive fear and doubt to flight. 
Be firm each moment, *'know thyself," 

Know that *'I will,'' "I can" 
Attain ; for all is limitless 

From amoeba to Man. 



10 



BROTHERHOOD. 



Awake, and claim thy birthright now. 

Thy consciousness attained, 
The tjniverse itself is thine, 

The vigil almost done. 
The ages that have kept thee bound 

To watch and wait and pray. 
Are passing, and beyond there waits 

The wonders of new day. 

Awake, and mark the golden glow 

Across life's endless sky; 
Awake, and know the harvest sown 

In past eternity 
Is ready for the reaping now, 

So forward with the van. 
And garner from the fields of space 

The Brotherhood of Man. 



XI 






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THATa FOR 



TO MOTHER. 



As Father Time paints in the years, 
That makes the picture we call Life; 

From the soft tints of babyhood, 
To broader, stronger tones of youth ; 
We find the picture fair, forsooth. 

We find the painting truly good. 

But as he works to middle ground. 
Lays in the rich but harsher tones 

That limns the lines that adds more years, 
Intent we gaze and criticize, 
With vision less acute, less wise. 

With vision dimmed by sometime tears. 

And last tho', with the Master's touch. 
The foreground gleams with silvery age 

And violet hues of peace, well caught 
Keflection from the baby skies. 
Then, mute with wondering surprise. 

We know how well the painter wrought. 
March 14, 1908. 



15 



THE GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY. 



Midas, I need thy golden touch, 

Thy wondrous gift unheralized, 
To turn to gold each word, each thought, 

That retrospection holds emprized. 

Fain would I turn to gold each lyre 
That sings of half a hundred years, 

Of human life spent side by side. 
Warmed by Life's sun which dries Life's tears. 

Fain would I paint the aureate tints 

In strong relief against the grey. 
Those Mem'ries sweet whose finger prints, 

Mark Life's book through to this wedding day. 

June 20, 1911. 



16 



TO "THAT OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE." 



Come, Dear One ! Listen yet again 

To music of the long ago ; 
To song that echoing adown the years 

Impels the blood to quicker flow, 
And brings to mind the happy days 

When Youth and Love went hand in hand, 
And hearts were light, and rainbow rays 

Of hope embrightened all the land. 

Come, Dear One ! Lay thy hand in mine 

And let me tell thee once again 
The love I gave thee in those days 

Has aye been my heart's best refrain. 
And know that no discordant note 

Ha splayed across the strings of love 
To mar the gentle symphony 

On which our hearts have jointly throve. 

Come, Dear One ! Lay your cheek on mine, 

As in the past I'd have you do 
When pain or pleasure filled your heart 

And weal or woe had come to you. 
Believe me, time has wrought no change ; 

My joy is still your happiness 
And still my tears can meet your own. 

When Fate brings to your life distress. 

Come, Dear One ! Rest your heart on mine. 

And as we view the years gone by 
Be glad that we were mated well 

And love yet lives for you and I; 
E'en till the stars of heaven are dead 

And e'en until the sun grows cold 
And Time has joined Eternity, 

Love for we twain, cannot grow old. 



17 



THE FRIEND WHO WALKED WITH ME. 
(To S. D. G.) 



How simple deed and kindly thought, 
Impelling share in others' woe, 

May help our blinded eyes to see ; 

May help our breaking hearts to know 

All things are well ,whate'er they be, 

Came with the friend who walked with me. 

Nor then, nor now, I doubt that he, 
Surmiseth half the priceless boon 

He offered, when he left his path. 
And at my side took up his own : 

And counselled hope ; tho' none might be. 

But that he turned and walked with me. 

Dark, dark my heart that sunlit day ; 

Deep, th' impenetrable gloom 
That pall-like hung o'er all my way. 

And crushed me with the might of doom. 
The heedless world passed on : but he 
Passed not, but turned and walked with me. 

Paused on his busy hurrying way ; 

Dipped deep into Hope's bubbling spring; 
Proffered my soul the soothing draught 

Which took the barb from sorrow's sting. 
Thus for sweet friendship's sake did he ; 
The friend who turned and walked with me. 

Words are but words ! It is the deed 
That gives the purpose of the heart, 

The gift of self, that toucheth deep 
The grieving soul, which stands apart. 

Alone, in all the world. And he 

Knew this, and turned and walked with me. 

Friend as 'twas thine to share with me 
A burthen greater than my strength, 

I know in archives out beyond 

Our ken, thy deed's inscribed at length 

And if thy need should come, that he 

Who wrote, will turn and walk with thee. 



18 



ETERNAL YOUTH. 

(To N.— On Her Birthday.) 



Another cycle ! So the spiral grows 
Which leads thee ever upward to the Light, 

Another year gone by 

Blessing thy destiny 
With life grown fuller for each yearly flight. 

Another year? Nay, what are years to thee 
When at thine own hands lies thy destiny? 

These atoms of Time's flight 

But make for greater might 
In winning to thyself Eternity. 

Another day, and the full year has gone ; 
Another, and a year has come again. 

Yet, if between each sun 

Some higher thought is won. 
The days, for thee, go not nor come in vain. 

Another hour! Yet nucleii of the days. 
These minute fragments build the arch of Time ; 

Each fitted to the whole 

For thee, as grows thy soul 
Through evolution to the God Sublime. 

Another moment — and the hours are made 
Which draw us to, or from. Perfection's quest, 

Incarnate now ; now free. 

Making our destiny 
That which we will under God's own behest. 

Hence Time is not for thee or me to claim ; 
Nor heed its markings as its limits flee. 

Held in the bonds of earth. 

Striving for Spirit birth. 
Our spirits measure in eternity. 

And in this Truth lies all there is of life ; 
And in each life lies all there is of Truth; 

And as the Life Divine 

In thee and me combine. 
So do we find, as One, eternal youth. 
May 12, 1912. 



ON A GOLDEN WEDDING. 



Come Cupid ! we must travel far, 

But it will give thee joy to know 
Thy happy duty is to ring 

The wedding bells of long ago, 
Whose silvery echoes quivering yet 

Down all the years that since have passed, 
Finds mated souls awaiting thee 

To ring the golden chimes at last. 

So ring in softest sweetest notes, 

And as the gold-tuned volume rolls 
Up through the sunset skies of Life 

Twill tell of twinned, and loving souls. 
Come Pegasus ! we ride tonight 

The pathway blazed by fifty years 
Of life and its vicissitudes, 

Its storm and sunshine, smiles and tears. 

Ah ! Here we are ! Now Cupid mark 

Yon laughing girl, and sturdy lad, - 
Dost not in retrospection see 

How fair the game thy arrow had? 
How well thy love-tipped shaft was sped. 

That struck in hearts designed as one 
In that sublime arch-scheme of life 

That hath outlived the living sun? 

And see ! As we retrace the way. 

Here, Hymen taking up the task 
Hath healed the wound thy barb had made 

And leaves no greater boon to ask. 
The solemn marriage vows are made. 

That pledge the twain as one for aye. 
Throughout this life, and e'en beyond 

The veil that hides the Mystery. 

Now here ! forth from Life's opening dawn 

The stork is flying, well awing. 
And safe across the chasm of Death 

The crown of Motherhood doth bring. 
We pass more years now, and 'tis noon. 

Life's noon, full sunned with calm content 
Implanted in the faithful hearts 

That find God's work well done, well meant. 



20 



Now on ! And here Life's even'tide 

Drops cooling shadows o'er the glare 
Of earlier years, and thus they gaze 

In peace adown the vista there ; 
And in Life's twilight live anew 

The years that never will be old 
Tho' space of time may measure far 

And many a changing scene unfold. 
Stop Pegasus ! Our ride is done, 

We're back again to Winthrop town, 
So, still thy tireless beating wings. 

And let myself and Cupid down. 
March 27, 1908. 



21 



MY DAUGHTER. 



Had I the fabled wishes three 
And right to wish them all for thee, 

My Daughter! 
I'd find the choice as hard as those 
Who found all wishing vain, 
With a black pudding on a nose, 
But wish it off again. 

Had I the right to wishes two. 
And right to wish them both for you. 

My Daughter! 
I fear 'twould prove as hard a task. 
For what two things on earth 
Outranking others, might one ask. 
As being of the greatest worth? 

But if one wish I might demand, 
That I could place at your command> 

My Daughter! 
I know the wish with which Fd bless 
Your every day and hour ; 
Fd wish you happiness. 
You'd need no other dower. 



22 



Here's a hope box all for thee, 

Marjorie, 
And the hope we place within it 
First, is that no single minute, 
From the moment you begin it, 
Will have aught but pleasure in it, 

Marjorie. 

Verily 
We would speed thee merrily. 

So this hope box now for thee, 

Marjorie, 
Holds the hope that never hour 
But that angel's loving power 
Shall thy life with sunbeams shower. 
Shall make happiness thy dower, 

Marjorie. 

Ever free. 
Of all but life's pleasantry. 

And this hope box more for thee, 

Marjorie, 
Holds the hope that never day. 
But that shall know thee ever gay. 
Joyous at thy work or play, 
Finding flowers of life's way, 

Marjorie, 

As the bee 
Finds the sweetest readily. 

Then this hope box most for thee, 

Marjorie, 
Holds the hope that never year 
But shall find no stain of tear 
Bringing grief within thy sphere ; 
Dimming eyes erstwhile so clear, 

Marjorie, 

San Souci, 
Fain thy years we'd build to be. 

Now this hope is for thee, 

Marjorie, 
To enhance with added treasure 
Wherein maiden hearts find pleasure. 
While the hours the life days measure 
By protracting youth's sweet leisure, 

Marjorie, 

'Till thy HE 
Finds thy heart's lock with love's key. 

2S 



SING ON. 
(To Leslie.) 



Sing on Sweet Soul! 
While Life's red wine of youth 

Fills all thy veins. 
Nor dare to question Truth, 

Nor count thy gains. 

Sing on Sweet Soul ! 
While hope is beating high ; 

And love alone 
Can rim and fill thy sky 

And life condone. 

Sing on Sweet Soul! 
With all thy maiden's power 

Of poesy. 
Mind well this is thine hour ; 

Hold it to thee. 

Sing on Sweet Soul! 
For youth lives but a day, 

And night must be, 
E'er other dawns inveigh 

Eternity. 



24 



TO MY WIFE. 



Mayhap the sun is shining. 

As it shone when you were here, 
They say it is so, 
But well I know, 
It brings to me no cheer. 
There's something missing from the day, 
The universe seems all astray. 
Perhaps I miss you dear? 

Mayhap the stars are shining, 
As they shown on yesternight. 
But if this be, 
Tis not for me 
Joy lies in their soft light. 
There seems a pall 'twixt heaven and me 
That dulls the stars. Can it then be 
You made the stars so bright? 

Mayhap the moon is shining 
As it shone upon us two 
In auld lang syne, 
When night divine 
Was silvered all for you. 
But I find no sheen to the moonlight now, 
And night is old and dead. I trow 
You have taken the moonlight, too. 

Mayhap you care for this dear. 
Are glad in a woman's way. 
The universe 
You bless or curse, 
As you may go or stay. 
And if this be weakness, or this be strength, 
I do not care for I know at length, 
You will bring back my own some day. 



25 



THE HOPE BOX. 



When Pandora, the fairest of women, was given 
The box which contained every human emotion, 
And charged, under fiat of heaven's displeasure, 
To never attempt to discover its treasure ; 
As by this alone would be proved her devotion 
To the peoples of earth, and the gods ruling 

heaven. 
This charming lady, more curious than wise. 
Fell to evil temptation, and looked at her prize. 

And lo ! As the heaven-made cover was lifted, 
All the gifts of the gods which the box had con- 
tained 
Flew swiftly away, and were spread everywhere, 
To Pandora's great terror, no less than despair. 
Yet one gentle blessing, for pity remained, 
To solace, in loss, one who had been o'er gifted 
In all but the strength with temptation to cope. 
And this kindly blessing is that we call HOPE. 

Thus HOPE, dearest girl, from the box of Pan- 
dora, 

Has shone down the ages gone by since that day 

All undimmed. The one heritage woman may 
cherish 

Close, close to her heart, and ne'er fear it can 
perish ; 

For hope is self given to woman for aye. 

And hope gilds life's clouds with its own golden 
aura. 

And hope builds the heart for life's joy: that 
the sorrow 

Which shadows today, shall be gone with the 
morrow. 

Now 'twas from this story the custom is taken, 
That all who from Hymen would seek interces- 
sion, 
Should place on his altar a HOPE BOX; en- 
shrining 
Therein, first a heart, and about this entwining 
Such dainties as make for a young bride's pos- 
session. 
So we, in the hope that some worthy heart waken 
To merit your own, if you be not unwilling, 
Contribute your Hope Box — now you do the 
filling. 

26 



And as you link present and future in day dreams, 

Enfolding like incense your thoughts with each 
dower, 

May they reach to Olympus, and bring you full 
favor, 

With each of the gods, and they grant that life's 
savor 

Shall thread through your own like the scent of a 
flower, 

The song of the birds, or the dancing of sun- 
beams, 

And happiness only and always attend you, 

With angels to guard, and your heart to commend 
you. 



27 



YOUR SONGS. 
(To Margaret.) 



A lark aswing in the upper air; 
Hid in the mists of heaven's blue 

Far from my sight, yet full and fair 
Sent down a song so sweet and true — 
And child he sent me a thought of you. 

Afloat somewhere on a starlit bay, 

A maiden sang, and the sweet tones grew 

Sweeter for distance. And far away 
The singer sailed, but e'en she drew 
My thought, and sent me a thought of you. 

Out from a casement in cloister tower 
Sweet and sad, with the night wind blew 

A song, that came in my heart's dead hour 
And waked it, and gave it a life anew. 
And child this sent me a thought of you. 

For so thy songs, from a fair unseen. 
Pure with thy youth, like heaven's dew. 

Have fallen where flowers have one time been, 
Where seeds have fallen that never grew. 
And thus was given my thought of you. 

And so the chime of the poet thought 
Each empty bar of convention drew. 

And I have heeded what you wrought. 

And the songs you sing, they are sweet and true, 
Thus the lark and songs gave me thought of you. 



28 



A CHRISTMAS WISH. 



Were mine the gift to make one wish, 

That in the wishing could come true, 
I'd wish no more than come what may, 

T'would bring but happiness to you. 
That from contentment's chalice, deep 

You'd quaff, and in the draught you'd find 
The Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men, 

That He of Bethlehem designed. 



29 



TO MY LITTLE GRANDDAUGHTER ON HER 
BIRTHDAY. 



I have no gift of sordid worth, 
To bring thee on thy natal day, 
But through the garden of my heart 

With thee I'll stray 
And pluck the gifts of God, dear child, 
On which the fairies all have smiled 
Sweet charms, to bear thee safely 

On Life's way. 



30 



JUST A LOVE THOUGHT. 



When the warm wind doth come in the chill of 
the night, 
In your eyes it is love I would see ; 
Oh be thou not coy while my love-laden heart 

Is bursting with treasure for thee, 
Oh be thou not shy, when thou knowest thou art 

Of all the world only for me. 
I've sought thee, I've found thee, and now while 
my arms 
Do hold thee, oh! tell me I pray 
That doubt hath all fled and 'tis meet trust that 
warms 
Thy heart which shall be mine alway. 



31 



THAT'S MOTHER. 



Is her hair touched with grey? Does a line here 
and there 

Show in passing through life, there were mile- 
stones of care; 

Yet the charm of her smile finds no cloud resting 
there, 

That's Mother. 

Is she ready always, with counsel or deed. 

To guide or to aid to the limit of need, 

Has she praise (tho' all others may blame) in 

full meed? 

That's Mother. 
Does she meet your misdeed with forgiveness 

and love? 
Does she pour from the gold of her heart's 

treasure trove 
Ceaseless prayers to that Friend she depends on 

above? 

That's Mother. 

Does she watch for your coming with joy in her 

heart. 
Does she grieve for your going, but hide the 

keen smart 
Of the tears she withholds with her sweet 

selfless art? 

That's Mother— That's Mother. 



32 



THE MEN WHO FOLLOWED DREUX. 



Halt company ! Front face ! Ground arms ! 

Drums, beat the long tattoo! 

Attention : Sergeant call the roll ; 

And tho' your remnant few 

May sadden for the silent gaps 

Which shows that Time has sounded "Taps" 

For many, still to you 

The honor of a soldier's pride 

Must warm each heart as tears are dried, 

To know they followed Dreux. 

Gallant, the leader loved by all. 

Found gallantly as true. 

In every soldier's heart enrolled 

Under the flag of Dreux. 

And tho' the decimating years 

Have thinned your ranks, ye need no tears 

E'en tho' affections due; 

For valor laid your leader low 

And honor leaves no place for woe 

With those who followed Dreux. 



November 15, 1916 — Written on the occasion of the re- 
turn of the old battle flag to the eight surviving members 
of the Orleans Cadets, whose Captain, Charles Dreux, was 
the first officer of Louisiana to fall in the war between the 
States. 



NAY! GRIEVE THOU NOT O, FRIENDS. 
(In Memoriam, To Nina.) 



0, friends grieve not that God has claimed His 
own, 

To guide to life more perfect that fair soul, 
Which in its mortal guise ye knew and loved. 

And yet ye knew not in its spirit's whole. 
For ! the veil is thin ; and lest she know 

Ye feel the desolation of her flight, 
Seek ye the truth of everlasting life. 

Which shines for all in the eternal light. 

She is not dead, nor ever can she die; 

She but has paused to rest along life's way ; 
Weary of earth, has laid earth's shell aside 

To be no longer fettered by its clay. 
While in those realms where readjustment waits. 

For all who rest in Death's sweet interlude, 
She still evolves the sweetness of herself 

Into the perfect flowers' beatitude. 



Si 



AN ACROSTIC. 



As thou wouldst rest at peace, 

Live well while life remains, 

Lest, when thy soul is freed 

Some day; and thou dost count thy gains, 

A thoughtless word or deed. 

In idle moment given, 

Narrows the earnings of thy acts 

To lesser joys in heaven. 

See that thy heart is pure, 

Do for mankind thy best. 

And then indeed thy deeds of here, 

Yonder, will bring thee rest. 



All Saints' Day is an annual celebration, held on Novem- 
ber 1st, in New Orleans, when people of all classes, kinds 
and conditions visit the cemeteries and place flowers on 
the tombs and graves of departed relatives and friends. 
A beautiful effect is produced, and it is the adherence to 
these unique customs that makes the city quaint and dif- 
ferent to others. 



SUNSET. 

A crimson line of horizon, 

O'er topped by liquid gold, 
Merging to dainty violet 

On blue's high arching mold. 
A purple fringe of darkening trees, 

Far stretched across the West 
Lost in the gleam of silvered lake, 

As Phoebus seeks his rest. 

Gray-blue the clouds that softly fall 

As curtains o'er the sky ; 
Thus gradient change impels the day 

With gentle force, to fly. 
The heart's sweet Angelus has rung, 

And Nightfall claims the land, 
Peace reigns. Life struggles all have ceased 

Under the Night's command. 



36 



YOUTH. 

Where the Summer days are dying 

And the Autumn, red and gold, 
Fills the woodland with a splendor 

All its own, 
Many a lad and lissome maiden 

Wander sadly hand in hand; 
Hearts with pain of parting laden 

Pain they cannot understand. 

And they tell the old, old story 

Of the love that ne'er can die. 
Till the sun has lost his glory. 

And the stars desert the sky. 
Oh ! the pity that a parting 

Must the pledges test for truth. 
And the tears in bright eyes starting 

Always are the tears of youth. 



37 



PAKTING. 



Farewell! Ah yes, but not goodbye 

For there be other holidays, 

When you and I dear, hand in hand 

Will tread the old familiar ways ; 

So just the grip 

Of fellowship ; 

But not goodbye ! Oh ! not goodbye ! 

Adieux ! Ah yes, but not goodbye, 

We cannot use a word so drear, 

When in our ramblings we have found 

So much to soothe, so much to cheer, 

Hand pressing hand, 

We understand; 

But not goodbye ! Oh ! not goodbye ! 

Adios ! Ah yes, but not goodbye. 

For that might spread across the years 

That reach out to eternity. 

And blind our eyes with searing teat's. 

So with a smile 

We'll part the while ; 

But not goodbye! Ah! not goodbye! 



38 



THE LAMENT OF THE LIONESS. 



Oh Night, thou art all my own 

With thy pale moon on the wane, 
Watching, I watch alone, 

But my vigil is all in vain. 
Hopeless, my hungry heart 

Waits for my King's glad call. 
Up from the foot of the mountain pass. 

There's a sob in the wind — that's all. 

Oh Grief, thou art all my own! 

For the love of my life is gone. 
Weeping, I weep alone. 

For so it is life goes on. 
There be som^etime joy in the golden day. 

But the darkness of loss to all. 
There's a cold dead form on the trackless plain, 

There's a sob in the ynnd — that's all. 

Oh Love, thou art all my own! * 

Thou art all Life has left to me. 
Loving, I love alone, 

And live in love's mem.ory. 
Living, I live with Death's cold shade 

Clouding Life's roses all. 
For he has the Desert for sepulchre. 

There's a sob in the wind — that's all. 

Oh Death, thou art all my own! 

Thou art all Life has left to me, 
Waiting, I wait alone, 

For the summons to come from thee. 
Hist! Tis his well-loved voice. 

Sweet does its cadence fall, 
Calling me home, ah I come love, I come. 

There's a sob in the wind — ^that's all. 



39 



THE END OF THE HONEYMOON. 



You Zekial, w'at you doin* dere? Is yoh contrac' 

done expired? 
Or is you de cullud gemman dat my fancy fust 

admired? 
Is you tryin' to 'nounce de promises you cluttered 

out so glib, 
Wen you swo' dis yearth was Eden, en I was yoh 

long los' rib? 
Well you gotter wake up nigger, 'cos de time fo' 

dreams is pas', 
En dis hea's de realizin' dat's a reachin' fo' you 

fas'. 
Yoh ole taffy pot's biled over, an de taffy's all 

done burned. 
En it's gettin' meat en taters now dat's got us 

two concerned. 

Wen Br'er Johnsing gib de blessin', en sed, ''You 

Two is One," 
I spec' it got up in yoh wool dat yoh struggles 

was 'bout done: 
En you th'ot Br'er Johnsing 'dressed dem words 

seclusively to you? 
Well you goin' to change dat 'pinion now — 'cause 

One en One is TWO. 
En I'se dat TWO ! you hea' me suh? En you's jes' 

'bout er half. 
De idea of you bein' IT. Nigger you make me 

laff! 
I'se full growed, en mah wisdom tooths has long 

ago cut through; 
En I knows too much to squandah strength sup- 

po'tin' sech es you. 

Ain't feelin' well? I guess you aint. But you 

gwynter feel much wuss 
If dis succumstanshal yevidence is eny good to 

trus'. 
You see dat big roun' rollin* pin, en ou see dis 

heah big ahm : — 
Well dat's a hint, en I tell you man dat you wants 

to take alahm. 
We might need Votes for Wimmin — ^but we don't 

to run dis roost, 
For Equal Rights (wid er rollin' pin), is easily 

projoosed 



As part en parcel of de scheme of dis lop-sided 

life; 
En we gwynter start dat scheme right now : you 

take DAT from yoh wife. 

I guess de zephyrs waf my words to yoh t*ick 

haid pretty clear; 
But so you'll know 'zac'ly what I mean — GIT- 
RIGHT UP FROM DAT CHEAR, 
En amble down to de tater patch — en doan' you 

move too slow ; 
En w'en you git dar, Zezial lub, you pick up dat 

hoe— EN HOE ! 
En w'en I toot on de dinner horn, come in en git 

yoh grub; 
You shan't know de lack of er good squar* meal, 

if you work f o' it, my lub. 
En tomorrer, jes' at de crack er day (w'ile de air 

is kinder cool). 
You kin plow up some of de ole no'th fiel'. Now 

de sun's too hot — fo' de mule. 

En bear in min' dat de firewood en de water 

totin' too 
Is part of de scheme of dis toilin' life dat falls, 

my lub, to you. 
I'll do my share, en cook, en wash, en sew, en 

patch yoh clothes ; 
En do all de t'ings dat er woman should — en dat's 

plenty enuff, Gawd knows. 
But you can't sit in er rockin' chear, en me work 

f o' yoh keep ; 
You won't fin' dat dis lady is by half dat much 

asleep. 
No ! I ain't cross ! Not yet dear— but don't stop 

to argufy, 
Or you'll know how cross yoh pet kin git, in de 

close up by en by. 

Out yander, in dat cypress clump, mah free fust 

hus'bans res'. 
En dey each started in wid er fool idea dat de 

MAN was fust en bes'. 
But Lawzee ! Didn't dey change dere min's w'en 

I showed 'em ban's was ban's, 
Dat shouldn't do on a woman's ahms eny mo' dan 

dey should on a man's. 



44 



If de woman mus' wash fo' her daily bread, den 

de man mus' dig f o' it too. 
De Lord has giv' us each our work, en we gotter 

see it through. 
So Zekial, you jes' hit de trail, like dem dat's gone 

ahaid. 
En do yoh part w'ile you live, like dem; en res' 

like dem, w'en you daid. 



45 



IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
(As Explained by Victoria Jackson, Club Lady.) 



Miss Ma'y, ef yo' please 'm, I kaint do no wash 

today. 
Dey's a 'lection at de meetin' of de Ladies' 'Mal- 

gamation, 
En de Golden Stahs of Zwn dun made me a dele-^ 

gation 
Fo' to represent dey intrus', en to hoF dem Sisters 

down. 
En I hates to disappoint yo', but dey aint no udder 

way. 

Yas'm, dey's jis' like de white fo'kes — aint no 

better — not a bit; 
En de way dey qua'ls en wrangles is jis' puyo 

co'tamination, 
But my people's jis' like monkeys w'en it comes to 

imitation : 
En yo' knows how yo' own club fo'ks does de same 

way, I'll be boun'. 
So de Golden Stahs aims fo' a change, en dat's 

w'at I'm to git. 

Well I gotter to be a movin' ! But I'll come soon in 

de mawnin'. 
En I'll cl'ar dat wash in no time — jis' to sho' my 

'preciation 
Of how yo' all has yo' trubbles in yo' Ooman's 

'Filliation 
Jis' like we has ourn, en — Ma'am? — Yas'm, I 

will sho'ly tell yo' all 
'Bout how dey ac's w'en I gits dun a givih dem 

dey wamin'. 

(Waves adieux. Business of going off. Then returns.) 

Well, Miss Ma'y it's dun over, en my bes' close is 

all spiled: 
But yo' oughter see dat President dat beat me fo' 

election. 
I bet dey aint no spot erbout her hide kin stan' 

inspection 
'Thout sho'in' ma'ks of w'at I dun, w'en de time 

fo doin cum, 
En I sta'ted wukkin' on her. 'Cause dat 'ooman 

got me riled. 



46 



How'd it happen? W'y, Miss Ma'y, Ise a'mos' 
ershame to tell, 

Fo' de way dem ladies acted was a hones' defama- 
tion 

Wen de nominate committee cum en make dey 
proclamation 

Dat dey has two candidations fo' to run fo' presi- 
dent, 

'Cause I'se one — en Lucy Perkins is a nominate 
as well. 

Den dey sta'ts to fuss en squabble, but at las' dey 

takes a ballot; 
En dey's TWENTY-SEVEN ladies, min', in dat 

whole aggergation; 
En de count sho's I gits NINETEEN votes, en 

'taint no 'zaggeration 
Wen I tells yo' dat dey counted Lucy Perkins 

TWENTY-FO'. 
En w'en I claims de 'lection crookec^, Lucy hits 

me wid de mallet. 

Well, I 'low dat aggervates me — en I clum' right 

up dat lady; 
Den I clum' down — en I sho'ly lef her close a 

dee-gredation 
To eny modes' 'ooman, from dey state of 'brevia- 

tion, 
Fo' I lef her 'bout dress up in strings, en little 

mo' beside. 
En I'se sho' she's mighty sorry now her lection 

was so shady. 

Oh, no'm! Not only me an' her. Dem ladies all 

bus' in: 
En far up close, en pull out wool, 'thout much 

real 'scrimination, 
En w'en dey quits, dey quits becos we 'tain de 

'limination 
Of all de fight dem ladies had — en also mos' dey 

close ; 
En teach 'em how to vote nex' yeah, w'en we elects 

agin. 

So yo' see, it's like I tells yo', Miss Ma'y, jus' de 

same. 
Us ladies aint no better dan yo' OomarCs 'Fillia- 

tion. 



47 



En dis hyah fac', Miss Ma'y is er sho' hoomilia- 

tion. 
But I hopes de 'Malgamation ladies '11 reprove dey 

manners, 
Fo' de way yo' white fo'ks ca' 'ys on, is jis' a sin 

en shame. 

Yas'm yo' does Couse I kaint 'spute yo' all re- 
specks yo' close, 

But dat's wha' yo' respeck dun quit, 'cordin my 
information, 

En w'at yo' needs, like w'at we needs, is Chris- 
chun toleration, 

To b*ar us through de conflicts dat is sho* de Club 
life's burden, 

'Thout fergittin' we is ladies, tho* dat's ha'd enuff, 
Lawd knows. 



48 



Is yo' only crazy, uh jus' a fool 

'Thout no sense in yo' t'ick haid 
Yo' shif'less, idle, ign'ant coon, 

To say w'at yo' jus' dun said? 
Cou'se 'taint no matter w'at yo' b'lieve 

'Bout dese Equal Rights no how. 
En dey's white fo'ks 'thout mo sense 'n yo' 

Spouts 'bout like yo', I 'low. 

En dey all 'splains jus' de same as yo' 

Dat de good Lawd, w'en He plan, 
Dun figgered dat de nuniverse 

Was co'struc' for de he male man. 
En dey s'potes dis wid de argiment 

Dat He dun make Adam fus'; 
But Law-Zee-Me! Was He satisfy 

Wid dat job He make ob dus? 

It looks like not, w'en He right away 

Tuk a rib from dat Adam's side 
En made Him a 'ooman t' improve de man 

En ter keep him passified. 
Den He tell 'em bof, "Now yo' two go 'long 

En boss ebryt'ing yo' see ; 
'Scep'in don't yo' eat no fo'bidden fruit 

Wat grows on dat yander tree." 

Den dey say "No suh" en dey goes dey way. 

But de Debbil he snuck eroun'. 
En he 'low, "I gess hyah's a job fo' me, 

Fo' to bus' up his peace I'm boun'." 
Den he crep' in a sarpent w'ats loafin roun, 

En he walk him up to de pair 
Stan'in' straight on his tail: en he say "Please 
Ma'am, 

De Lord He ain't totin' fair." 

"Hyah's a apple, Miss Eve, w'at fall out dat tree, 

En b'lieve me. Ma'am, it's true 
Ef yo' jus' take a bite yo' sho' gwynter see 

'Twont do any hahm to you." 
Den Eve, perlite like, pass de fruit, 

En says, "Adam s'pose yo' tries." 
Den de Bebbil he whisper, *'Quick ! Be cute. 

Bite fust — den yo'll fust git wise." 



49 



Wid how wise it dun make him feel; 
En he clean fo'get 'bout Eve at fus' 

En would't hear, nur heed her 'peal, 
'Till she grab de apple, en sna'ch her bite, 

En dat's huccum, till now, 
De 'ooman's behin' in dis Debbil's stew 

Dat dese Lawd's ob Creation 'low. 

But w'at happen den was dat Adam eye 

Po' Eve wid de eye ob blame, 
En he 'low in a stern reprovin' way, 

*'Ooman, sho yo' mus' feel ershame 
To be traipsin' roun' like yo' has bin doin' 

'Thout so much as er stitch ob close, 
So I'se gwynter direc' yo' in modesty; 

Hyah's sum fig leaves, dress in dose." 

En dat's huccum he 'press her min' 

'Ooman kaint be no match fo' man 
In de brazen doin's he plan to do 

Afterw'ile wid he marster han'. 
En Eve she blush, en she bow her haid 

Low down to dat fus' Lord's will. 
En dey's Six T'ousan' yaahs gone by 

Since den, but it's bowed down still. 

En den w'at nex' dus dat Adam do 

Wen de Lawd catch 'em makin' close 
En 'cuses Adam, dat he dun vi'late 

De tree, as de good Lawd knows? 
Ole Adam he tries to shif ' de blame ; 

En he waller 'roun' en bleat, 
*'De 'ooman yo' giv' Lawd, tem'ted me. 

En pester me, till I Eat." 

But de Lawd He's jus'. En He shoo 'em bof 

From dat gyarden, to sweat en toil 
Fo' dey daily bread, en de close dey v/ear, 

In de grind ob de worl's termoil. 
Den dat Ole Fox say, "Now 'ooman dear, 

Dishyah gwynter be ruff fo' yo' 
So I'll boss de job, en yo'll hev my keer, 

En I'll 'low w'at yo' is ter do. 

Den he b'ilt him a hoodoo pedestal 
Outer washtubs, brooms en stoves, 

En t'ings like dat dat I kaint ha'f call, 
Wid some jewels, en laces, en gloves 

50 



Den he coax, ''Git up my dear, 
En you'll fin' up dere ail de things yo' need 
Dat b'longs to de 'ooman's sphere. 

Now de ooman eat las' ob de knowledge tree, 

En de man he eat de mos' 
So dat's huccum she 'low to 'gree 

He's de onlies' boss ob co'se. 
But de leaven dat cum from dat 'ooman's bite 

Been workin' from den till now. 
En she's cum to see dat de 'ooman's sp'ere 

Aint no less dan de man's nohow. 

Fo' no man eber cum to de worl' since den 

Dat a 'ooman has'nt bo'n 
En de bref ob life en de han' ob death 

Treats de two ob dem jus' like one. 
En if de 'ooman is fittin' to bear 
En to nuss, en to raise dat man, 
She sho' is fitten' to enywhere 

Longside where de man might stan'. 

So de man who 'poses Equal Rights, 

Is de greedy Adam kin' 
Who wants de mos' en de bigges' bites 

From de apple dat bull's de min'. 
But he lives too late, en yo' gwynter see 

De cum back of de Eden hour, 
Wen de man en de 'ooman is gwinter be 

Side by side in dey rights en power. 



51 



ME AND Bi^LLb^KUfHUIS. 
(E. J. G. to J. H. R. in Reply to A Pindaric Ode.) 



Whoa Pegasus! Let me get down, 

Methinks this pace doth grow too hot. 
No Bellerophon I, to hold 

Against This Chimera, God wot, 
Whose verbose Fire doth scorch my brain 

With knowledge of foredoomed defeat. 
Nor all Minerva's friendliness, 

Nor gift of golden rein can cheat 
Years of the penalty of years, 

Nor age the toll it pays to youth. 
Let me get down, winged beast; 

I know when I am licked forsooth. 

Thrice have I ridden full and free. 

My Falchion aiming for the Head 
Whence comes this Glowing Lingual Fire 

More withering than Chimaera's dread. 
And though my polished blade was edged 

By Webster, Worcester and Roget ; 
His weapons are of better make. 

And tempered to a better day. 
I yield! Let Proteus have his will, 

And lobates have my head : 
Polydius cannot help me now. 

With J. H. R. in Chimsera's stead. 

Chance not the wrath of Jupiter 

Against my lost celestial hope. 
Wait not for gadfly's cruel sting, 

To work out all the ancient dope. 
No Bellerophon ever fell 

From thy round back with heavier thud 
Than I; when J. H. R's. last assault 

Left me unhorsed and in the mud, 
With helm, and casque, and shield, and lance 

But fit for Auction's highest bid: 
And I to grope through Aleian field 

As lamed, blind Bellerophon did. 

Whoa Pegasus ! I cannot cope 

With J. H. R. and his knightly train: 

With Chaucer, Goldsmith, Shapespeare, Pope — 
Such dead ones brought to life again — 

And others of their class and time 
Alligned 'neath his victorious flag. 

Whoa, whoa ! I say, let me get down. 

52 



I claim no right to joust like this, 

For I was but a babe at birth, 
Quite young, nor born of god nor muse. 

Whoa "Peg." Let's volplane back to earth. 



53 



I must have been a loonatic, a silly maudlin dub, 
That ever I should let my wife get in that woman's 

club, 
For here I'm playing Mother, to a lusty brood of 

chicks, 
While she's in Alexandria, doing the fancy kicks 
That's apt to put the Grand Kibosh on patriarchial 

right • 

And make us fathers, mothers, in perpetuity 

quite. 
If we get votes for women, law knows what else 

we'll get. 
But it wont be enjoyable, on that it's safe to bet. 
Oh ! I was strong for Woman's Rights, about two 

days ago. 
But things have changed since then you see, and 

now I'm going slow. 

For then I was a God-made Man — and now I am 

a— WHAT— 
"It's really quite annoying" as my neighbor says, 

and — but 
I won't bring in "these men's affairs" for bad as 

women are 
They have not yet attained the right to coat and 

pants of Tar. 
But "Revenons a nous mouton," to quote in Celtic 

French, 
I'll tell you what it was that gave my heart a 

wrench. 
A woman ! Yes, a woman 'twas, and she was, yes, 

my wife, 
And while she stayed at home and talked, I talked, 

too, wild and rife. 
Of Woman's Votes and Woman's Rights, her 

freedom and all that, 
And thus I dexterously knocked into the fire the 

fat. 

I let her join the Suffrage Club, indeed I urged 
her go. 

And strike for freedom of her sex, at least one 
telling blow. 

I egged her on as best I could, no need for argu- 
ment. 

We both were willing and one day, I found she*d 
gone and went. 

54 



time you see, 
The time she gave to women's clubs had not 

affected me. 
True now and then occasion came, when she 

would sweetly say, 
**I'm sorry I must leave you dear, but my club 

meets today." 
"By no means let that worry you, for surely every 

need 
That I can have while you're away has been well 

met indeed." 

"My comfort always was your care, why should 

you not be free 
To do your will, when you have been, so thought- 
ful, dear, for me?" 
And thus it went, I felt so big, at my philosophy 
The wonder is I did not break a rib or two you 

see. 
But after while the deluge came, for on an April 

day. 
The federated women's clubs of this great U. S. A. 
Held a convention in a town whose grand historic 

name 
Would bring to mind the Pyramids, of Egypt, 

more's the shame 
For Egypt, with the Pyramids too, to appropriate 
A cognomen we'd want to use, ourselves at later 

date. 
But I digress, the town is famed for one time 

raising — well 
Don't interrupt, of course not — but, raising a fine 

hotel. 
And just the place, though built for spite, conven- 
tions could convene. 
And they convened all right, all right, and I could 

not be mean ; 
And let my wife be one of them, and let myself 

remain 
In charge of all domestic stunts, till she came 

back again. 
The children all attending school, became my 

earliest care, 
Then making beds and sweeping floors, most 

broke my back I swear. 
Then I forgot the marketing; the grocer left us 

out, 
Tho' he made every other house, I think, upon his 

route. 

55 



lady though, 
Left all the clothes upon the line, and said 'twas 

time to go 
At two o'clock, informing me, that for six bits 

a day. 
She did all she was going to do. I let her have 

her way. 
Then came that sacred "mother hour," when little 

heads must bend, 
And hands are clasped, and baby prayers, softly 

to heaven ascend. 
I didn't have to face that trial, because each little 

one. 
Wise in its way jumped into bed and left that job 

undone. 
So thus it went from bad to worse, each day new 

duties brought. 
Each hour the agony piled on, till I was quite 

distraught. 

Experience brought no relief, but rather the 

reverse, 
My brain was all tied up in knots, and soon, so 

was my purse. 
I paid for things we did not need, and then got 

into debt 
For things we really had to have, e'er the fifth 

sun had set. 
A bad boy in our neighborhood, tramped down a 

flower bed, 
Belonging to a lady with hirsute adornment red, 
She blamed it all upon my boy, and told me what 

she thought. 
In language that I could set down, but think I 

hadn't ought. 
(As incidental, though just think, if w^omen had 

the vote 
This one's as good as twenty men, and sure would 

"get our goat.") 

No peace, no rest, where e'er I turn, some new 

disaster waits. 
With range from bumps and tearing clothes, to 

breaking cups and plates. 
By our dear children, bless their souls, who 

promised Mother dear, 
The house would be run quite the same, as 'twas 

when she was here. 

56 



well, IX iL lo, uiicic 11 wc 111 iL, d i/iii^iv i/iiai/ X v^dii c 

see, 
And anyway, the Women's Clubs, never again for 

me. 
I see now as I never saw, that Nature, wise old 

dame. 
Entranced by manly attributes, and sensitive to 

our blame. 
Has made us great creation's lords, and left it 

up to us. 
To stay wise to the rights vv^e have, "Sic se, sim- 

ilibus," 

To keep sweet woman always sweet, the tender 

clinging vine, 
(That clings to cares we dare not face, or even 

dare define). 
To leave her free as God's own air, bound but by 

duty's need, 
(But that each duty must be done, we fully are 

agreed). 
To toil for her in busy marts (buying cigars and 

drinks 
And talking of what we could do, while she just 

does and thinks) . 
What? Votes for women? Not for mine! I've 

learned a thing or two 
About what is a woman's right, and what she 

ought to do. 
What? Votes for women? Not for mine! The 

woman's place is home, 
And, if we know our little book, we'll see the day 

don't come 
When she can vote us off the street, and load us 

down with cares 
That are enough to kill a mule, while Nature 

smiles and stares. 



57 



(Written for The Woman Suffrage Party of 
Loufsiana. Tune, "Dixie." July, 1913. 



We raise our voices in this song 

To claim a right withheld too long, 

Too long, too long, too long in dear Old Dixie. 

The right to human recognition 

As a part of woman's mission. 
To bear, and share full franchise rights in Dixie.* 

CHORUS. 
We want a voice in Dixie 

Today, Hooray! 
In Dixie Land we understand 
As well as men in Dixie, 
The voice, the choice, the vote way down in Dixie, 
The voice, the choice, the vote way down in Dixie, 

Our fathers taught that government 

Without the govern'ds' free consent. 

Was wrong, all wrong, throughout the world and 
Dixie. 
Was tyranny of basest sort, 
And so for freedom's right they fought. 

And freed our land, from Canada through Dixie. 

Each human soul revolts at thrall 
And springs to life at Freedom's call 
E'en West, e'en East, e'en North, or South in 
Dixie. 

And when the women are subverted 

Under rule of right perverted 
By Man, to Man, for Man alone in Dixie — 

Why should the men, as sovereign right. 

Hold suffrage theirs because of might. 

Away, away, away from us in Dixie? 

When the great West has blazed the way, 
And North and East watch for the day 

To break ; and wake to broader life than Dixie. 

Nay! Brothers of a common race. 
Come ! Let us take our proper place 
Beside yourselves at every poll in Dixie. 

We ask this as a vested right, 

Inherent in a Mother's might 
To rear, and train the enfranchised of Dixie. 



£8 



AYE! 

Aye! till the sun in the sky grows cold, 

Aye! till the stars are still, 
Aye! till eternity^s gates unfold, 

Finding us where they will. 
Still will I love thee, and loving live 
On through the ages that God doth give, 
Seeking if parted, seeking 'till found 
Though the seeking lead to the Great Beyond. 



59 



SAV 



